


In Style

by White Queen Writes (fhartz91)



Series: 31 Days of Ineffables [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), Alternate Universe, Aziraphale and Crowley being goober uncles to the Them, Crowley fixes hair apparently, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21729847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/White%20Queen%20Writes
Summary: Aziraphale ponders the evolution of the modern family while Pepper mourns her curls after a bad haircut.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: 31 Days of Ineffables [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560190
Comments: 15
Kudos: 104





	In Style

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompts sleigh bells, silent night, and choir.

“Brian. Wensleydale. Miss Pepper.” Aziraphale welcomes the children walking into his shop without his eyes leaving the paragraph he’s reading, the jingling of the sleigh bells hanging over the door announcing their arrival. “To what do I owe the honor of your …?” A heavy, spiritual sigh passes through the room and he glances up, his _Celestial Observer_ sliding from his grasp in astonishment when he gets an eyeful of the young lady weeding through her companions to explain. But she needn’t say a word.

Her hair says it all.

“Good Heavens! Pepper!” He bobs left and right for a better look at the mess that has been made of the once neat curls that crowned her head, now a sloppy - and in some cases, hacked to death - mop of mayhem. “Not again!”

“I’m afraid so, Mr. Fell.”

Aziraphale sighs. “So, what’s the occasion this time?”

“Choir recital. I have a solo. _Silent Night_.”

“Yeah, and we’re all gonna be there to watch,” Wensleydale says, beaming with pride for his friend.

“That’s very nice of you,” Aziraphale says, and Wensleydale smiles as if he’s just won the World Cup. “Pepper, my dear, we’re always happy to help you out, but if you don’t tell your mother what your aunt is doing to your hair, she’s going to keep sending you to see her.”

“I know.” Pepper’s eyes wander, taking stock of Aziraphale’s trinkets and knick-knacks, searching for her favorite among them – a cherub with hair and a nose like hers, crouching down to pet a beagle puppy. She finds her reflection instead, in the door of one of Aziraphale’s curio cases. She sighs when she sees the massacre, raises a hand to touch it, sadly twirling her remaining curls around her finger. “But it makes my aunt feel so good to help. It’s been a long time since she’s felt like part of the family, you know?”

“I know, my dear.” Aziraphale watches the boys put a hand on her shoulder and give her a squeeze. She smiles at them, huddles a step closer, and they reassure her with their smiles.

 _Family_.

It seems like such a solid thing. Indeed, it is the foundation of most human lives. But, in truth, it’s a nebulous concept. In the beginning, the first family – Adam, Eve, Cain, and Abel – all they had was each other. One would think that would cement a bond so great none could break it. But Cain and Abel turned on one another. And throughout time, it’s been that way – brother against brother, sister against sister, father against mother. But here, in the so-called ‘modern age’, humans define family for themselves regardless of how the Almighty originally intended it. Friends can be closer than family. Aziraphale has seen it in his shop. _Found families_ they’re called. The families people choose as opposed to the ones assigned by birth.

Aziraphale has often wondered how God feels about that, seeing as She is the one who assigns them. But best not to ask Her.

She’s not so much a fan of questions.

And besides, had She not favored lamb over a plant-based diet, Cain might not have slaughtered his brother, and would things not be different?

Who knows.

Aziraphale knows the story of Pepper’s aunt and the fight that caused her to leave the fold. But now, after over a decade, she’s back, living in Soho of all places, though Aziraphale has yet to cross her path. And Pepper has been acting as the family’s official dove, carrying olive branches and mending fences.

Creating a whole out of two broken halves.

Unfortunately, her hair often gets caught in the crossfire.

Aziraphale holds out a hand for hers. When she takes it, he puts his other over it and silent blesses her. “Pepper, you are a wonderful human being.”

She looks down, slightly embarrassed by the compliment. “Thank you, Mr. Fell.”

“Crowley? Dear?” Aziraphale calls over his shoulder.

“Yes?” a disembodied voice calls back.

“Miss Pepper is here and she’s in need of the usual.”

“A snip and a fix?”

“Yes, Mr. Crowley,” she answers with a giggle.

Almost in a puff of smoke, Crowley is there, standing in the doorway of Aziraphale’s back room, one hand on his hip, a frilled black apron tied around his waist, a towel draped over the back his neck, and a pair of scissors in his hands. Not that he’s going to use them. He’ll need to miracle most of Pepper’s hair back to right.

He just enjoys any opportunity to dress the part.

He tosses his hair dramatically as the children giggle and his angelic husband rolls his eyes.

“I’m on it.”


End file.
